1- Prologue
1210 Words
Six Years Ago
The summer air was thick with heat and possibility.
Graduation had ended hours ago, but neither Parker Taylor nor Maxton Sutton seemed ready to go home.
The football field lights had long since gone dark. Most of their classmates were off celebrating at parties scattered across town, chasing the freedom that came with turning seventeen and believing the world belonged to them.
Instead, Parker sat beside Maxton on the hood of his black Mustang parked at the overlook just outside town.
The place had always been theirs.
Whenever life became too loud, they ended up here.
Above them, stars stretched endlessly across the night sky.
Below them, the town glowed softly in the distance.
For once, neither of them spoke.
Parker leaned back on her palms, staring upward.
She should have been happy.
Graduation was supposed to feel exciting.
The beginning of everything.
Instead, all she could think about was the fact that in a few short months, she would leave for college.
And so would Maxton.
Different schools.
Different states.
Different futures.
The realization settled heavily in her chest.
Beside her, Maxton exhaled slowly.
“What are you thinking about?”
She smiled without looking at him.
“How weird it is.”
“What?”
“We’re actually done.”
His laugh was soft.
“Yeah.”
“No more teachers.”
“Thank God.”
“No more detention.”
He glanced over.
“Most people didn’t get detention as much as you did.”
She gasped dramatically.
“I was a victim.”
“You spray-painted the principal’s parking spot.”
“He deserved it.”
“He absolutely did.”
Parker grinned.
The familiar ease between them settled some of the ache in her chest.
Being with Maxton had always been easy.
Too easy.
That was the problem.
Because somewhere along the way, friendship had stopped being enough.
At least for her.
And she had never been brave enough to tell him.
Instead, she’d spent years pretending the butterflies in her stomach meant nothing.
Pretending every smile didn’t affect her.
Pretending she didn’t memorize every detail about him.
The curve of his smile.
The scar on his jaw.
The way he always looked for her first in a crowded room.
Pretending she wasn’t completely, hopelessly in love with her best friend.
She swallowed hard.
“What’s your plan?” she asked quietly.
Maxton stretched his legs out in front of him.
“College.”
“Then?”
“Business school.”
“Then?”
“Take over the family empire, I guess.”
His voice lacked enthusiasm.
Parker turned toward him.
“Sounds exciting.”
“It sounds exhausting.”
She laughed.
His family was rich.
Powerful.
Influential.
Everyone knew the Sutton name.
Everyone expected Maxton to eventually inherit everything.
The responsibility seemed impossibly heavy.
“What about you?” he asked.
Parker shrugged.
“Law school.”
“You’ll be terrifying.”
“I already am.”
“That’s true.”
She nudged his shoulder.
He nudged hers back.
The contact lingered longer than it should have.
Neither moved away.
A strange silence settled between them.
One neither seemed eager to break.
The breeze lifted a strand of Parker’s hair across her face.
Without thinking, Maxton reached over and tucked it behind her ear.
Her breath caught.
His hand lingered.
For a moment, everything seemed to stop.
The air.
The stars.
Her heartbeat.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
Then he pulled away.
And the moment vanished.
Parker forced herself to breathe again.
Coward.
The word echoed in her head.
Because she wasn’t sure whether it applied to him or her.
Maybe both.
“So,” Maxton said, clearing his throat.
“So.”
“We should make a pact.”
She blinked.
“A pact?”
“Yeah.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It is.”
Parker laughed.
“What kind of pact?”
He thought for a second.
Then a slow grin spread across his face.
The dangerous one.
The one that always meant trouble.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
She pointed at him.
“I know that look.”
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Tell me.”
Maxton sat up straighter.
“If we’re both still single at twenty-four…”
Parker waited.
“…we marry each other.”
The words landed between them.
For a moment, neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Parker’s pulse thundered in her ears.
Because he was joking.
Obviously.
It was a joke.
Had to be.
But something in his eyes made her wonder.
“What?” she asked.
“You heard me.”
She laughed nervously.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Excellent argument.”
Parker rolled her eyes.
“Twenty-four is ancient.”
“It really isn’t.”
“It is when you’re seventeen.”
“Fair.”
He extended his hand toward her.
“Come on.”
She stared at it.
At him.
At the impossible hope trying to bloom inside her chest.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
“No loopholes?”
“Nope.”
“No take-backs?”
“None.”
Parker looked down at his hand.
Then slowly placed hers in it.
His fingers wrapped around hers.
Warm.
Strong.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
“If we’re both single at twenty-four,” she said softly.
“We get married.”
His grip tightened.
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
Neither let go immediately.
Neither seemed willing to be the first.
Finally, Maxton released her hand.
Parker tried not to miss the feeling instantly.
Tried and failed.
The night stretched around them.
Quiet.
Comfortable.
Bittersweet.
Then, unexpectedly, Maxton stood.
“What are you doing?”
“Come here.”
Parker frowned.
“Why?”
“Just come here.”
Laughing, she climbed off the hood.
The second her feet hit the ground, his arms wrapped around her.
She froze.
Maxton hugged her all the time.
At least that’s what she told herself.
But this felt different.
Stronger.
Tighter.
Like he wasn’t ready to let go.
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him too.
His chin rested against the top of her head.
She could hear his heartbeat.
Steady.
Strong.
Dangerously comforting.
The hug lasted longer than it should have.
Long enough to mean something.
Long enough to hurt.
Long enough that Parker almost convinced herself he felt it too.
Then he stepped back.
The moment shattered.
Just like that.
Best friends again.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The drive home passed in a blur.
By the time Parker climbed into bed that night, exhaustion should have claimed her instantly.
Instead, she stared at the ceiling.
Thinking about the pact.
Thinking about his hand in hers.
Thinking about the way he’d looked at her.
The way he’d held her.
And wondering if she’d imagined all of it.
Eventually, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.
The worst part wasn’t that she’d spent years loving him in silence.
It wasn’t knowing he would probably never feel the same.
It wasn’t even the fear of losing him.
The worst part was knowing she would have said yes if he’d asked right then.
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